


Santorini

by Squintern



Series: Radius [1]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2018-04-28 05:06:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5078998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squintern/pseuds/Squintern
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eames knows Arthur detected him the moment he entered his radius.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Santorini

He finds Arthur in Santorini. Well, “find” isn’t the right word, obviously. Arthur has proven that he’s never found unless he wants to be. That is, Eames wouldn’t have ever caught up to him if he hadn’t wanted him to. If he hadn’t stopped running.

There’s something pure about the signature wash of white the city has. It seems untouched, undefiled. It’s probably why Arthur chose this place to finally let Eames catch up. The water is the most perfect glassy azure he’s ever seen and Eames has to wonder why he’s never spent a lot of time in Greece. The sky seems perpetually blue and the clouds, when they appear, are soft wisps exactly the color of the houses below. In the warm, buttery glow of the midday sun, Arthur looks just as untouched as his surroundings. Undefiled. At peace.

He doesn’t say a word as Eames approaches him, but Eames knows Arthur detected him the moment he entered his radius. He merely sits with his face turned up to the sunlight, his sunglasses glinting and obscuring his eyes completely. Eames takes the open seat next to him. He doesn’t speak either. There’s a breathlessness to this spell that seems to have been cast and right now neither of them wants to break it. For all the anticipation they’re feeling, the peacefulness of the day is too sacred to shatter just yet. So they just sit there together, in each other’s orbits, aware of the presence in their radius.

Eventually, Eames senses Arthur turn to him. He shakes away the lazy half-doze he had fallen into and turns his head to meet Arthur’s eye. He still can’t see them past the reflective lenses of his sunglasses, but his mouth isn’t the tense line he’d gotten used to seeing after Mal. Arthur continues to simply look at him for a moment longer before turning back to the sunshine.

“You’ll lose your eyesight out here without sunglasses,” he finally says mildly. There’s a lightness to his voice that Eames can barely remember hearing. Eames smiles.

“You do care,” he teases gently and is gratified to see the twitch of Arthur’s lips, an almost smile that he doesn’t bother to hide.

“Indeed,” is all Arthur says and Eames doesn’t hide his smile either. It’s good to see Arthur like this, the ghost of dimples in his cheeks and his hair lightened from sun exposure as he dragged Eames around the globe. He’s beautiful. 

“I wasn’t running from you,” Arthur says after another period of silence. Eames is still watching him. 

“I know,” Eames assures him.

"I just, I wasn’t sure. I didn’t know,” he says, nervousness bringing his shoulders toward his ears. 

“Darling,” Eames stops him gently. He brushes a hand across Arthur’s knee, barely enough contact to be felt, but it’s the first time he’s touched him like this – almost intimately – in years and he feels something very close to relief. “I know,” he repeats sincerely.

Because he does. When he returned home and took the time to clear his head, that’s when he figured it out. It had taken weeks and several drinks (take that Yusuf) and long nights, but he awoke to an epiphany. It was sudden, as every epiphany is, and so obvious he was left wondering why he hadn’t realized before. In those nights between Arthur leaving and revealing himself in Singapore, he had gone over every assumption he had ever made about Arthur and rethought every observation he’d made since. If he had only been looking for the right thing, he would have seen it sooner, would have been able to act on it sooner. But. Then again.

He had noted something different about Arthur the moment he laid eyes on him. Now he takes the time to really look. His posture is relaxed, his spine melting back against the chair as if he has no intention of getting up for a good long time. The line of his shoulders is smooth and he’s even let his hair curl around his face instead of suffocating it under product. He’s put together in an entirely different way than before; rather than pulling everything in tightly and nearly breaking under the pressure of keeping it there he’s just holding everything in its place, perfectly pleased to let things shift if need be. The notch between his brows that had taken up residence on his face when his best friend jumped out a window is not even a ghost of what it once was. He doesn’t look at all untouchable anymore. He looks real and warm and solid and content. Arthur is content. He’s content and he’s done running and he’s finally sure.

As though Eames had voiced the thought aloud, Arthur turns to him and takes off his sunglasses. He smiles, small and real, as he looks at him.

“I needed time,” is all he says, “I’m sure now.” Eames smiles and lays his hand more firmly on Arthur’s knee and turns his face back toward the sun. He feels Arthur watch him for a minute more before he replaces his glasses on his nose and mimics Eames’ position. He shifts once to get more comfortable, but is careful not to dislodge Eames’ hand.

Later, Arthur will take him back to the small white-wall house he is renting. He’ll let Eames rest his hands on so many more places than just his knee. He’ll gasp and he’ll shudder and he’ll hold on like Eames is the only thing keeping him grounded, like he’s the only thing that matters. He’ll smile some more and Eames might even coax a laugh from him. He may even whisper three short words into Eames’ ear, quiet and small and heart achingly vulnerable. But for now, Arthur will rest here by the water, listening to the gentle caress of waves lapping against the dock, his face turned to the warm glow of the afternoon sun, and keep Eames’ hand on his knee, and be content. Just like this.


End file.
